


What You Want

by themorninglark



Series: tripping over time [4]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: EnnoAka movie making, Ennoshita bonding with the other second years, Ennoshita working out his future captaincy feelings, Future Captains bonding, Gen, Happy birthday Ennoshita
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 10:49:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5537129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themorninglark/pseuds/themorninglark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which a boy who wants to play confronts everything else that he wants, and didn't know that he wanted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What You Want

**Author's Note:**

> This is a birthday fic for Ennoshita, one of my absolute favourites in Haikyuu!!
> 
> I have a lot of feels about his growth and his character arc. I hope this does some justice in expressing them. Happy birthday, Chikara.

Chikara wants to play.

He is in the playground, swaying lightly on the swings; he kicks himself off the ground, just enough for the feeling of soaring (and falling) to take hold of his heart for a few breathless seconds, not enough for dust clouds to trail in his wake. He's not that kind of boy.

In the distance, he hears the steady, satisfying _thwack_ of a ball connecting. _Nice receive!_ , someone shouts, and footsteps move swiftly across the rustling grass.

Chikara wants to play. It looks fun.

But the other kids are older and bigger than him, and it's not like he's small, for his age, but he _is_ very strictly average in every way imaginable, and he has never touched a volleyball before, so he will probably be very strictly average at it too.

He stays on the swing for the rest of the afternoon. He watches the game, and feels the itch grow amidst a slow, churning kind of unrest in his stomach.

 

* * *

 

"Me…?"

A few weeks ago, that would have come out incredulous. Now, he hears the sound of his own voice bounce hollowly off the walls of an empty gym, and he just sounds - well - kind of tired. Resigned to the inevitability of his fate, unasked-for.

He hopes Daichi doesn't pick up on it. He knows, most likely, he's hoping in vain.

"You," says Daichi.

His face gives nothing away. He looks Chikara in the eye, impassive and unmovable.

Chikara sighs quietly.

He thinks: Daichi's grown.

Not that Daichi hadn't been the natural choice for captain. He always had, of course. Suga and Asahi had known it, so too had Chikara, Kinoshita and Narita, along with the rest of the second years. But Chikara remembers a time when Daichi, perhaps, would have smiled when he said _You_ ; this Daichi stands firm with his arms by his side, speaking with a _senpai_ 's authority. Waiting for a reply.

Was it captaincy that changed him? Chikara wonders. Is one born a captain, or - are captains _made_ , in the naming of them?

"I can't say no, can I?" Chikara asks with a small, sheepish grin.

Daichi's shoulders relax a little. He frowns, raises a hand to the back of his head to scratch it thoughtfully.

"You can," says Daichi. "But it'd really put us in a pinch. No one is better for the job, Ennoshita. I want to leave my team to you."

The directness of his honesty is what does Chikara in, in the end.

 

* * *

 

_In the end…_

He had come back, because he'd sat at his dining table on a hot, hot afternoon with a book and an after-school snack he'd fixed himself, because he'd had time, all the time in the world.

The hours, stretching, endless and sweltering, sweat on his skin, the clock, ticking overhead.

He'd flipped pages idly. Looked at his phone, cast glances over, off and on. The notification light had stayed dull, unblinking, and he'd picked it up, scrolled through his contacts. Leaning back in his chair, allowing himself the luxury of stretching out his muscles, gazing up at the clock again -

To see that not ten minutes had passed, and he had developed a restless twitch in his fingertips of his free hand. They drummed out a tattoo on the tabletop, a rhythm his feet knew well.

He had felt the air-conditioning blow cool on the back of his neck as he buried his head in his arms, considered his newfound freedom.

He had come back, because in his solitude, he hadn't been able to hide from himself.

And his honesty had been an ugly thing. Nothing like a captain's.

 

* * *

 

On one of his weekend trips to the suburbs of Greater Tokyo, Chikara finds Akaashi sitting on the back porch of his school's parking lot, near the bicycle bay, still armed with his camera. He's replaying some of the footage they shot earlier today, letting out small, quiet _hmm_ s under his breath.

"Akaashi-san…"

Akaashi looks up. He hits _pause_ , and lowers the camera.

"Something on your mind?" he asks.

Chikara manages a weak smile. "You can tell?"

"Frankly," says Akaashi, with an impassive stare, "you look like you're about to throw up."

"Ugh," Chikara moans.

He sits down next to Akaashi, and slumps forward over his knees.

"You'll be captain next year, won't you? When Bokuto-san leaves."

Akaashi's inscrutable eyes narrow momentarily, flicker with something like understanding.

"Yeah," he says.

He pauses, and the implication of what goes unsaid hangs heavy in the air as he studies Chikara, thoughtfully, silently. He sets the camera down next to him, clasps his hands in his lap and turns to gaze out at the schoolyard.

Chikara squeezes his own palms together tighter and feels the sweat sticking.

"You know, Ennoshita-san, I think I'll be a very different kind of captain from Bokuto-san," says Akaashi. His voice is matter-of-fact, casual, as easy as if they're discussing the weather, or reliving the conversation they'd had over watermelons and barbecue a while back, when they'd discovered their mutual love of film.

"At first," Akaashi continues, "I was worried. Bokuto-san's shoes are impossible to fill. And I've been vice-captain for a year, but it'll be different when I have to lead them. Sometimes I still don't know how I'll do it. But…"

Chikara watches as he unclasps his hands, looks down at them, as though gauging everything that they have to offer, and the limits of what those hands can pull off.

"I think it's okay, to be the kind of captain you want to be," says Akaashi.

"I'm not sure if I know what kind of captain I want to be," Chikara murmurs, more to himself than to Akaashi.

Akaashi's lips curve upwards into a half-smile. He picks up the camera again, and hits _play_. The footage picks up where it left off. Chikara glances over, notes with approval the wide-angled, hazy shots that really set the mood and the atmosphere he's going for.

"Well," says Akaashi, like he's pointing out something obvious, "you already know what kind of director you are."

 

* * *

 

_I want to play -_

And he's a child, once again, too caught up in his thoughts to step off the swing, too stubborn to look away.

If he looks within himself, he knows well enough what he wants.

The question is -

Is he brave enough to reach out and take it?

 

* * *

 

From the railing overhead, Chikara, watching with his heart in his mouth and the rest of the Karasuno team breathlessly silent by his side, has an excellent view of the moment when dreams are made, and shattered.

He can see it coming, probably even before Datekou does. Their new first year setter is an inexperienced blocker, and there's a gap between his hands a mile wide, easy, too easy for someone like Seijou's No. 4 and their frightening captain, Oikawa.

Chikara hears Hinata's shocked gasp from next to him, hears Kageyama bite off a _tch_ that sounds like grudging admiration, in spite of himself. On the court, a frenzy of shouting from the Seijou benches starts up, in the wake of a stunned silence and sudden hush from Datekou.

And the cheers of _Go! Go! Datekou!_ fade away abruptly, their absence startling in the immediate aftermath.

Daichi, Suga and Asahi are studying their next opponents, keen and ready, but it's not Oikawa and the Seijou team that have Chikara's attention for now, it's -

The sight of Datekou's new captain, their No. 2, calling for his team to line up and bow to their supporters.

 _He's only a second year_ , thinks Chikara. _Like me._

He can't see the Datekou captain's face clearly from here. But he sees the strained way his shoulders square themselves, the way the rest of the players shuffle into line, slowly and agonisingly, and he knows that this could have been him, this year, had Daichi and the others not decided to stay on. Perhaps it _should_ have been.

And Chikara has to swallow the lump in his throat, look away and press his lips together.

 

* * *

 

Later, he'll see him in the corridors behind the stadium, near the changing rooms. Datekou's No. 2. He's wearing his jacket now, hiding his number, but Chikara remembers that face.

They pass each other without speaking. Chikara thinks he probably doesn't remember him, from their one match together way back when. He'd been warming the bench, after all.

He tries not to stare, but still, he can't help glancing over, searching -

_For?_

For a sign, perhaps.

And what he sees are gritted teeth, lip curling upward into something irrepressible, even as his curious gaze meets deep brown eyes for a second, burning with determination.

 

* * *

 

_I'm not brave._

The thought keeps circling in his mind, even as he tries to repress it.

He takes a long sip of his melon soda, and says, "Hey, Hisashi…"

Kinoshita, hands in his pockets as he slouches next to Chikara on their way to the bus stop, shoots him a questioning look. The weather's taking a turn for the chilly, suddenly, as it does; Chikara, who's always tended to err on the side of caution when it comes to wrapping up warm, is grateful for his own paranoia for once.

He adjusts the muffler round his neck with his free hand and lets out a small breath.

"I still don't think I can do it. Be the captain next year - " he admits.

Kinoshita immediately gives him a punch in the shoulder that makes Chikara flinch.

"Don't be dumb," he says. "You can."

"I wasn't finished!" Chikara yelps.

Kinoshita grins. "I know. I just wanted to punch you for saying something like that."

"Ha," says Chikara, dully.

Oddly enough, it does make him feel better. The reality of connection, something as ordinary, as grounding, as Kinoshita's annoyance and deadpan remarks; the assurance that no matter what, he's always got someone at his back to put him right back in place when his mind starts wandering. _The Ungrateful Second-Years._ Times have changed, and they are humbler now, more honest, with themselves as well as everyone else.

Kinoshita withdraws his fist, waits for Chikara to go on.

"But I'm going to try anyway," Chikara says. "I guess it's true, what Tanaka said. I think - I can understand, when people are afraid. I'm afraid. But…"

_I want to play._

"I can't always run away," he finishes.

Kinoshita doesn't say anything, for once. He merely smiles, nods and claps Chikara on the back.

 

* * *

 

He's never been one for big birthday celebrations, and it is a relief, every year, that everyone's Christmassed out by the time December 26 rolls about.

Still, when you're friends with people like Tanaka and Nishinoya, it's impossible to _really_ ever escape, and Chikara opens his front door with trepidation on this fine, wintry Saturday morning to find four very pleased faces on his doorstep, and they're brandishing a huge pot in his face.

 _It's too early for this,_ thinks Chikara.

"Good morning," he says, pleasantly. "What is this?"

He catches a whiff of something emanating from the pot, and instinctively recoils before realising - _wait_ \- it actually smells edible, and maybe, even, _good_ -

"It's _nabe_! We made it!" Nishinoya announces proudly.

Chikara blanches. He stares.

Over Nishinoya's shoulder, he catches sight of Narita mouthing something frantically. _Not really._ He's shaking his head, making a vegetable chopping motion with one hand as he nods at Nishinoya. _That's all he did. It's okay._

"You really didn't have to," says Chikara.

He tries to sound admonishing. He fails, in this respect, because he can't keep the grin off his face, and as he looks out at his teammates, Narita's unspoken words echo in his head.

_It's okay._

It will be okay.

Tanaka raises his hand and gives him a dramatic salute. "Happy birthday, Captain."

And Chikara thinks maybe, just maybe, he could get used to the sound of that.

 

**Author's Note:**

> (I'm always yelling about HQ!! over at @nahyutas on Twitter, come yell with me)


End file.
